


Voided Soul

by TheLastGunslinger



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), DragonFable (Video Game)
Genre: A woman falls into Thedas..., Alternate Universe - Spirits, Angst and Romance, Bad Jokes, Cole (Dragon Age) is a Good Friend, DAMN IT ALL, Dark Comedy, F/M, Fade Spirits, Fluff and Angst, Helpful Cole (Dragon Age), Hero has PTSD, I guess this is a fix-it fic, Lost Love, Major Original Character(s), Mutual Pining, OC elemental spirit, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Presumed Dead, Soul Bond, This whole arc is a bowl full of angst and damned if I’m not eating it with some milk, Tomix Saga: Aspar (DragonFable), aegis is missing, grieving Hero, i love me a good angst, ravenloss saga aftermath, the hero friggin loves Sera
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:00:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29475126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLastGunslinger/pseuds/TheLastGunslinger
Summary: Years after the events of the Ravenloss Saga, the Hero was forced to put on a brave face and pretend to be okay.She never told anyone that she visited his “grave” every month, nor that she still had Aegis look for him in the Plane of Spirits every few months.One afternoon, she receives an urgent message from Celestia, claiming her help is needed to save a world, the world of Thedas, from a demon invasion and a giant hole in the sky.Our Hero, no stranger to anomalous magical disasters threatening to tear the world asunder, agrees, and the demigoddess sends her to an entirely different world.However, she finds some not so unfamiliar faces in the wake of her arrival.
Relationships: Cassandra Pentaghast/Varric Tethras, Dorian Pavus/Original Male Character(s), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Tomix Danao & Hero, Tomix Danao/Hero
Comments: 12
Kudos: 1





	1. A Lucid Nightmare I

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my head for months now, and the Ravenloss Saga is one of my favorite arcs in a video game- and so, I write a (eventually) (sorta) happy ending to it. :-)
> 
> The other stories are momentarily on hold, college is kicking my ass currently.

It wasn’t like she expected a festival or anything going into this.

Whatever she had had in her mind about the world she was being sent to, she sure as shit didn’t expect it to be  this.

She shielded her eyes against a brilliant flash of light as she shoved open a door. 

“What’s going on here?!” She roared as she took in the horrific scene before her.

“Run while you can! Warn them!” A woman in red and white robes was suspended in midair by what could only be extremely corrupted, vile magic, from the sense of  wrongness that gripped her soul. The woman, certainly older already, seemed to age before her eyes as a monstrous figure brandished an orb a few yards away. It glowed a hideous red, and lightning arced out to strike the woman as she screamed again. 

The woman had a strong will, though. After such clearly excruciating pain, she still had enough sense to glare at the creature and spit in its face, lashing out with her feet. Her attack catches the thing off guard, and it drops the Orb, sending it rolling toward her.

_This thing is evil. Or maybe it’s just powerful, and the thing _ using _ it is evil. Either way; Evil. _

She reaches for a sword she doesn’t have on instinct as she reaches down for it. She’d held the other Orbs at various points through her years of adventuring, why would this one be different?  
Searing pain makes her vision white out briefly as her left hand is branded with ancient magic. She couldn’t drop the thing in time to stop it from overloading as it hummed ominously. The last thing she knew was blinding green light and the roar of some horrible creature in the distance as she blacks out.

* * *

This was, in no uncertain terms, an absolute hellscape. 

The sound of her landing was muffled, like she was underwater. As her vision cleared, she picked herself up off the ground to look around her, only to wish she had never opened her eyes. 

The sky was a disturbing dark gray-green, charged with lightning that skittered across the cloud banks with a noise like falling trees.

The ground was no better.

Sharp pieces of... stone? Glass?  _ Bones _ ? Scattered and crunched under her feet as she staggered, only barely managing to stay upright.

By the Void, she could still hear screaming from somewhere. Someone crying for help.

Her “hero instincts” as Artix liked to call them, kicked in, and she ran toward the voice.

As she went, she swore she saw.... things scuttling away out of the corners of her eyes.

A rippling green light shimmers off in the distance, at the top of a cliff lined with jagged and twisted spires of stone. She raced up it, struggling to keep her footing on the steep grade of the ground. She makes the mistake of looking down.  
Those _things_ she had seen skittering away from her were now chasing her up the damned cliff.

_Spiders_. A massive horde of monstrous spiders, bearing down on her, tearing her apart with their needle like legs-

She screamed as her hand is grabbed by someone above her, hauling her up the rest of the way to the portal.

Too late, she turned as the same woman gives her a sad smile, _the same fucking smile that_ he _had given her_ , seeming to fall off the edge in slow motion.

Only the immediate threat to her life kept her from collapsing into a hysterical mess. 

She looked behind her, seeing the portal wavering a few feet away.

She closes her eyes and runs for it, heart aching at the loss of someone she didn’t even know, in a way she was intimately familiar with. 

Light fills her vision once more as the ground rises up to beat her. She lands on her arm, both feeling and hearing it break under her weight as she collapsed, two pairs of boots filling her vision as she blacked out again.


	2. Lucid Nightmare II

“You must rise, brave one. I have sheltered you from them as long as I could, but now they come for you.” A feminine voice, not unlike Pandora’s had been, woke him from his deep slumber. He blinked and peered up at the glowing figure looming over him, and his heart- no, his  Soul \- seized at the sight. A spirit, wreathed in a soft golden glow, greeted him, a sad smile on her face.

“P-Pandora??” He gasped out, sitting up with difficulty, the tears stinging his eyes not entirely from the pain. 

“No, Weaver. I am called Solace, and I have granted your soul a measure of it for a time.” 

She patted his hand, and, if he hadn’t have already been laying down, he’d have fallen over. His hands. They were whole, for the first time in... Spirits only knew how long. He could touch things again, wield magic properly,  _ feed himself _ . He nearly wept from joy, having all but forgotten what it had been like to feel with his hands.  
He was jolted from his reverie by the sound of...  _ legs _ not far from him. Spirits take him, he couldn’t take spiders. He’d seen enough of them in his years in Ravenloss- and those encounters had done very little indeed to endear them to the weary Soulweaver. In fact, it wasn’t a stretch to say that he was properly terrified of them- especially the ones that had legs longer than he was tall, eight gleaming eyes that bore hatred and malice and spoke of not a little cruelty- or intelligence.

He shut his eyes at the memory of Niamh being struck down by one of the monsters in the shadowy quarters of Dusk Alley, ambushed due to his own idiocy.  
“Weaver! You must GO!” The spirit of Solace was yelling at him, tugging him to his feet, and as he saw a flash of too-long legs, he found that his aching body wasn’t at the forefront of his mind. He fled, heart racing, not daring to look behind him as the ground’s grade changed, leading up to a swirling portal that gave him a headache just looking at it.

Caught between an unknown world and his worst nightmare, Tomix barely hesitated.

He jumped through, crashing onto a rocky surface that truly wasn’t that different from the one he’d been running on moments before. He tried to stand, but his ankle gave out with a searing jolt of pain. He swore under his breath and tried to shift his weight off of it and sit comfortably while he tried to heal it.

“Ugh. Never thought I’d want Danyel to be here..” he grumbled, struggling to recall the basic healing spells his younger sister had eagerly taught him when they were kids, and she was first getting apprenticed to Mortem’s healer. “Dammit!” He hissed as he felt the spell working a little. Flesh mending itself back together was never a pleasant sensation, of course, but it certainly didn’t help that he didn’t really know what he was doing. He heard quiet voices coming from the former entryway of... whatever this ruin used to be, and felt a frisson of white-hot terror run through him. What if they found him-  what if they blamed him for this cataclysm? 

“Oh Andraste, do you hear that?”

“Maker’s balls, another one falling out of that thing? Wearing the same armor too. Shite, Lady Nightingale won’t be happy about this...” 

he could hear two... agents, he guessed but agents of what, exactly, was the question- talking from a short ways away. 

“Hail,” he rasped. “I don’t want to cause trouble for you- but I’m injured and... I don’t know where I am. Spirits, where am I??” They heard the rising panic in his voice, and one of them- a woman, he supposed, from her voice- knelt down beside him. “Aye, I suppose you don’t. Don’t recognize your armor, neither, but it’s close enough-“

“Merron!  Shut it !” Her companion hissed sharply, making her look down sheepishly. “Ai, nevermind her. Let’s see about that ankle of yours, eh friend?” 

Tomix nodded and shifted his leg around gingerly to where they could look at it.

“Ach, but that’s a good sprain you’ve got. Black as a bottle of Ritewine, it is. Here, let’s get you up. You can lean against me if you need to, but we need to get you out of here, at least until Sister Nightingale gets here with reinforcements. That thing’s mostly stopped spitting out demons, but you can’t be too sure with them.”

Tomix took the scout’s hand gratefully, standing and shifting most of his weight to his good leg, only touching the ground with the other to keep his balance.

“So, I got your name, Merron, but not yours. I’m Tomix.”

“Good ta meet you, Tomix, I’m Aster. Wish we was meeting under better circumstances, but… Well, we can’t always choose the ways we meet our allies. World’s gone to shit over the last few weeks, let me tell you. First the mages and templars raising hell everywhere, then their one chance for peace shot to the void with the explosion… Seeker Cassandra and Sister Leliana are doing their best to restore some semblance of order, but unless we find a way to close these rifts, all the laws and enforcers in the world won’t do anything but buy us a little time.” She looked down as they continued moving.

“What… What happened?” he asks quietly, looking around in horror at the petrified remains of terrified civilians. He stopped by one, his eyes burning. It was a robed figure vainly trying to shield a younger one from harm, a rictus of fear frozen on their face. 

“We don’t know.” Aster said quietly, voice cracking. “My… My fiancee was there. She was there gathering intel for her clan. We were going to get married this summer in the Marches, this beautiful spot by a waterfall that her Keeper showed us. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to face Keeper Lavellan after this.” Her voice tapered off into a rough whisper as she fell silent, even as they neared the forward camp of soldiers and could hear skirmishing ahead.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Aster. It’s never easy when you lose someone so close to you to war.” He closes his eyes, memories of Danyel and Niamh resurfacing, unbidden. “I lost my brother from something I did. Left him comatose for years. My mother refused to grant him rest, even though the rest of us knew he wasn’t ever going to wake up.” He clears his throat as they reach the camp, falling silent upon seeing the tall, fair haired man clearly in charge of the soldiers around him. The man in question could’ve given Artix a run for his money in how dangerous he looked, but from the harried look on his face, he was far from a joking mood. “Scouts, report. Who’s this, now?”

“Commander Cullen, sir! We were scouting the Temple ruins for demons when we came upon this man. His name’s Tomix, sir, and he’s injured.”

Cullen waved Aster on, but held Merron back. 

“There’s more to it than that, isn’t there?” He asked quietly. 

“Aye, sir. When we found him, he didn’t know where he was. Seemed really upset about it, too. ‘Spirits, where am I?’ Don’t guess I’ve ever heard someone swearing by a spirit before. Reckon he’s Avvar?”

“No, most Avvar I’ve dealt with swear by one or two in particular, not spirits in general. Plus, he, ah.. Isn’t quite tall enough to pass as one of theirs.” Cullen chuckles, shaking his head.

“His armor, though- it looks remarkably similar to the prisoner’s. Especially her gauntlets.” He sighs, peeling off his glove and rubbing his eyes with his cold fingers. 

“I suppose the only thing to do now is to inform Leliana and Cassandra of his arrival. I’ll send a runner to Leliana- find the man a healer, and see if he can help us fight these blighted things.”

Merron nodded, raising a fist to her chest in salute, and went to find one of the healers assigned to the soldiers.

Tomix, meanwhile, was honestly getting bored. He hadn’t quite lost his childhood urge to explore, even at 29. He supposed it was tempered with caution now, but the people he’d met so far hadn’t been anything but polite. Curious, naturally, but polite.

“Oi, Lyra! You free? Commander wants this one healed up right quick so he can talk to Leliana!” 

He heard Merron’s voice outside the tent, not quite catching the healer’s reply as Merron herself walked into the tent.

“Well, how’s our resident fadewalker doing by now? Cold enough for you?” She grinned at him and he chuckles, sitting up.

“Well, one thing about the bloody cold is, the rest of me is so miserable that I barely notice my ankle by now. Small victories, right?”

“Damn right, Tomix. Lyra should be here in a minute to heal your ankle. In the meantime, I’d like to hear a bit of your story. And don’t worry, I won’t go blabbing to Cullen, or, Maker forbid, Leliana, ‘bout anything you don’t want told.”

“Well, what would you like to know?”

Merron’s answering, childlike grin said all he needed to know. “Start with the gauntlets.” she said. “What’s the story behind those?”

“My Looms? I made them, years ago, at Edelia, a school that trains those interested in the art of Soulweaving, and an art it is. Most Soulweavers don’t use their craft directly in battle- at least not offensively. Most use it to craft their armor with the help of our soul allies, a spirit bound to us as we are bound to them, and defend against attacks in a battle. Some, though, like me and a few others, use our souls and the power given to us by our allies to make weapons.” He grinned wickedly at her and leaned forward a bit. “Wanna see?” He says, a conspiratorial gleam in his eyes.

“Andraste’s tits, yes!” She exclaimed, causing him to break out laughing, clutching his stomach.

“By the Void, do you often swear by your deity’s.. Ah, attributes? I heard you saying ‘Maker’s balls’ earlier.”

Merron snickers, flushing slightly. “Well, its not my best habit, for sure. But my ma ain’t around, nor any Chantry folk, either, so I guess I can blaspheme left, right, and center in the meantime.”

“Fair enough, I guess. So, you wanted to see what I use in battle?” 

“Sure!”

He stretches out his wrists, rolling them a few times, before swinging his legs to the floor, sitting on the edge of the cot. He smiles softly as she watches him closely, clearly fascinated. He closes his eyes, focusing his will into his spirit-looms. He distantly registers a quiet gasp as they glow a soft blue color. He glances up at her through the shaggy mess of his bangs, smirking as he twitches his fingers. Ethereal blue energy coalesces around them, forming long, wicked-looking claws. He flexes his fingers again, and they disappear, leaving the blue-gray, lambent stones embedded in the top of the gauntlets glimmering softly.

“That.. Maker, Tomix! That’s bloody amazing!” Her praise makes him chuckle to himself and look down, a blush rising on his cheeks. 

“Ah, well.. One of the few things I’ve stuck with through the years.”

The sound of the tent flap being pushed aside breaks the comfortable silence between them, and a dark-haired elf, cheeks flushed from the cold, ducks in.

“Hello,” she greets. “I’m Lyra. You must be Tomix, then?”

“I am, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Lyra. I hope I’m not being too much of a bother.”

“Oh no! Not at all. It’s actually quite nice to be able to talk with a patient instead of them screaming profanities in my ear while I heal them.” She laughs softly as she takes a seat on the end of his cot. 

“If you could lie back with your injured ankle resting on the cot?” 

He shifts around, left leg hanging off the cot and his foot by her leg.

“Apologies for my cold hands. I’m afraid I’ve gotten several complaints about them before, and apparently it isn’t just because we’re in the mountains currently.”

He suppresses a wince as she grasps his ankle. She wasn’t kidding about her hands being cold!

“Geez, what did you do, plunge them in the snow before coming in?”

She giggles as the soft glow of her magic brightens the area.

“You’re not far wrong,” he hears Merron grumble to his left.


	3. In Remembrance of Better Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skipping ahead a bit to the forward camp.

Niamh stopped dead in her tracks as she came upon the forward camp, eyes wide. There was a commotion up ahead of them around a large tent, several people trying to enter and exit the tent at once. Among them, a shock of white hair sticks out among the sea of green hoods and brown healer’s caps. Her stomach lurched violently as his laugh carries over to the group.

“No..” she whispered. “No.” Her voice strengthens and she shakes her head. It couldn’t be him. Not after all these years.

“Threads, you alright?” Varric called out from a few feet ahead. 

“Y-yeah.” She cleared her throat, shaking herself down and starting to walk once more. “Yeah. Just thought I saw someone..” 

Varric pats her arm knowingly. “Ah. Well, assuming we get through this, I’m always here to listen. Or distract you with another story. Your choice, really.” He says, smiling, and that drew a small smile from her. 

“That sounds wonderful. Thank you, Varric.” He nods slightly, and the group continues on. She tries to push the Weaver out of her mind, but fate seemed to have a different plan.

the scout the white haired man was walking with waved as she walked away, and he turns from the tent to watch their party go by.

“Tomix...?” She breathes, unable to stop herself. The man turns, eyes widening in recognition, and her knees give out underneath her. He rushes forward to help her, even as Solas steps forward to put a hand on her shoulder. Cassandra reaches for her sword as he approaches. 

“Who are you?!” She snaps, patience worn thin. 

“Seeker Pentaghast, ma’am! Sister Leliana tried to get a message to you, but it seems it got lost in this chaos.” The scout had turned back at the commotion and looks apologetically at Tomix as he helps Niamh up.

“This is Tomix Danao, ma’am. He fell through the big rift a few hours ago, no clue where he was, with a broken ankle from the drop. He’s willing to answer any questions you or sister Leliana may have, after, in his own words, ‘this void-taken mess is dealt with’.” The scout chuckles under her breath and nudges him in the ribs. 

“Ey, weaver-boy, hate to interrupt your reunion, but there’s demons being shat outta the sky. Yah can catch up with your girlie later.” Tomix snorts at the jab and shakes his head good-naturedly.

“Think you’re reading too much into this, Merron,” he scoffs. “But you’re right, of course. Come on, the Nightingale is up ahead, listening to some priest type flap his gob about something.” He motioned for the small group to follow them, and they walk through the gatehouse. Before they’re even through the door, they can hear a man’s voice ranting at the other end of the bridge.

“I order you to arrest her and-“ the man starts.

“ Order me ?!” She repeats. “You are a  clerk , a glorified bureaucrat!” 

“And  you are a thug, but a thug that supposedly serves the chantry,” he sneers.

“I serve the Most Holy,  Chancellor , as you well know.”

“Justinia is dead!” He exclaimed, “we need-“

“Enough!” Cassandra shouts, utterly fed up with delays.

“We must get to Cullen and reach the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It’s the safest route.”

“But not the quickest,” Leliana pipes up. “There’s an old mining tunnel that connects to a path through the mountains. It comes out not far from the valley to the temple.”

“The pass?” Cassandra asked. “Didn’t we lose scouts there?”

The Left Hand nods, grimacing. “We haven’t heard from them since I sent them out, about two hours ago.”

“Let’s go find the missing scouts, then,” Niamh says simply. “The soldiers will be fine in the meantime.”

Varric and Solas nod silently, but Cassandra grimaces before relenting.

“Very well.” She sighs. “Is everyone ready?”

“I’ll go with you,” Tomix says quickly. “Another fighter can only help, right?” He looks to Niamh, rolling his wrists a few times before cracking his knuckles.

“Where are your weapons?” The warrior asked, suspicion coloring her voice. Tomix taps his gauntlets with a knuckle, shooting her a brilliant, if cheeky, smile. 

“Right here, milady.” 

“You’re a mage?” Solas’s eyebrow quirks as he steps forward. “Fascinating.” He remarks, using the same tone of voice he had when he first talked to Niamh.

“Very combat-oriented, I’m afraid. As I learned when I tried to heal my ankle after I fell earlier.” He winces and chuckles sardonically.

“I see.”

Cassandra was still eyeing him strangely, as if he would burst into flames spontaneously.

“Is something wrong, Seeker?” He asks as they hike up the decrepit path.

“You are not built like a mage at all. Nor are you wearing clothing typical of a mage,” she replies, stepping around a rotten board with rusty nails sticking out of it at haphazard angles.

“You’re right. I’ve never been one to keep my distance from a battle,” he admits. “The armor is just for practicality’s sake. Robes aren’t much use when you’ve got blades swinging around you.” Cassandra grunts in reply, conceding his point. 

“As for the lack of a staff, well...” he gestures to the stones embedded in the top of the gauntlet,

“These are the foci for the energy. I expect you’ll see them in action soon enough.” 

The party falls silent as they scale a series of ladders, reaching the top, where a mine shaft opens into the mountain face.

“After you, Seeker.” Varric drawls, prompting an eye roll from the warrior.

Not far into the cave, the party hears the telltale shrieks of demons echoing further down.

“Trouble up ahead,” Solas calls. “Rage demon and a few shades.”

“Ice it is, then,” Tomix nods.

“If only Aegis were here..” Niamh says quietly as she readies herself as well.

“Aegis?” Solas asked, glancing at her.

“A spirit of Valor, and an ice elemental. He was Niamh’s soul-ally.”

The conversation stops as they come upon a pack of demons.

To the party’s surprise, Tomix and Niamh both charge at them in sync, bent at the waist with a hand stretched out in front of them as they charge their magic.

Varric lets out a colorful swear as Niamh vanishes briefly, appearing behind a pair of hapless shades. Her hands dart out faster than the eye can follow, tearing into the semi corporeal monsters. The demons barely had time to react before their essences dissipate into the air around them.

The pair share a grin as they straighten up.

“Just like old times,” She laughed, but there’s a hint of sadness in her tone that piqued Varric’s interest. There was definitely a story there. The duo obviously knew each other, but something had happened to one of them. An accident, maybe?

“Shall we continue on?” Tomix asks as he returns to the group.

They round a corner, and come upon the remains of a very large group of demons. The air was practically vibrating with the energy they left when they died.

“Niamh, there you are,” a rich, deep voice behind the group has her whirl around, eyes wide. 

Cassandra’s blade is out of its sheath almost before he finished talking, however, much to the speaker’s obvious amusement. The figure was slightly taller than Tomix, a purple aura around its form giving it away immediately as something unnatural. It wore a black cloak, the hood drawn over its face, and underneath it wore what once was a set of finely-made, black leather armor. His eyes glowed a vibrant byzantium purple under the hood, illuminating a wry smile, directed at Cassandra. 

“Tenuem?” Niamh says, shocked. “What are you doing here?” 

“I got drawn through when you did,” he shrugs. “Of course, unlike so many of my brethren, since I had both purpose and form in the physical realm, prior to this... chaos, I was largely unaffected by it. So maddened by the sudden change, they attacked me as I looked for you.”

Niamh hummed in thought, regarding her companion. After a moment, she approaches him, hand out.

“It’s been too long, Tenuem,” she smiles warmly at the spirit, clasping his forearm.

Cassandra still looked like she wanted to run the spirit through rather than talk to it, and hadn’t taken her eyes off of him since he appeared.

“What are you?!” She demanded, gesturing with her blade.

“I am Tenuem, Phantom. An elemental Spirit of Detachment, or perhaps more accurately, Neutrality.” 

“Why do you look like... that?” Varric asked, point blank. The spirit regarded the well-dressed Dwarf for a beat, then smirked at him.

“Well, my dear, dapper, Dwarven friend, I look like this because I  died like this.” Varric and Cassandra’s brows reach for their hairlines, while Solas simply nods to himself.

“You see, many, many years ago, longer than I care to think about, I was an assassin, in the employ of a long forgotten king. ‘How does an assassin become a spirit of neutrality?’ you ask? It is because, near the end of my unfortunately  extremely lucrative career, that I grew tired of politics. Tired of the endless dancing around the same issues, circling the drain of decadence and depravity. So I filled one last contract, and never reported back. The man was absolutely livid, of course. I was the best damn killer in the kingdom, maybe even the continent, and he wanted to keep me by his side. ‘Keep your friends close’ and all that. 

“Sent countless men after me, never found me, until the night I tried to leave the continent entirely. I was due to sail for kinder shores the next morning, when I was ambushed in a dark alley. The bastard that jumped me didn’t even get a fatal hit in.” He grimaces, remembering the agony of his last hours.

“Got me across a shoulder. Blade was poisoned, and it took hours for me to die. Was in absolute agony the whole time. Felt like my blood was on fire, and the wound burned like it was stuck in a fire. Died in the darkness that I worked in so often. It seemed natural for me to simply become part of it.” He finishes quietly.

They nodded, and all shielded their eyes from the blinding snow as they reached the end of the tunnel.

“These must be the missing scouts,” Varric remarked.

“This cannot be all of them, we should look around.”

They walk down the snowbank quietly, when Niamh stops and holds up a hand.

“You hear that? Sounds like fighting up ahead, off to the right.” The group rushes ahead, readying their weapons for a fight. They find a tired scout defending an injured companion from three large demons. She yells out as she sees them approaching, and attacks with renewed vigor as they reach her.

“Seeker Cassandra!”

“Corporal! You’re alive!”

“Just barely,” she panted, impaling a demon on her blade and shoving it off with her boot.

“Wait,” Tomix runs forward, “Aster?!” He kneels by the injured scout, supporting their back.

“Here,” Niamh presses a red bottle into his hand and he holds it up to Aster’s lips, tipping it up.

“There. You might not be able to fight, but you’ll live, eh?” He smiles at her, though it falls when he sees the tears in her eyes.

“You should’ve let me die,” she croaks. “I could’ve been with Eliana.” 

Tomix pales, eyes going wide before anger and worry twist his features again. 

“ No .” He says firmly. “That is  not the answer to this, Aster.”

“You don’t get it, you heartless bastard!  I loved her !” She cried, body shaking. 

He closes his eyes and looks away, brow furrowed.

“Aster, listen to me,” Niamh says quietly, kneeling in the dirt beside her. 

“I know you miss her. You miss her so much that you can’t do anything but think about it, and wish you were with her. I get it,” she chokes, voice rough with emotion as she takes her hand and squeezes it gently. Tomix goes very, very still as she continues. “I’ve been right where you are now. I’m not going to pretend that it was easy to continue on- it was the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done in my life, before or since.” She looks her in the eyes, tears of her own burning behind her eyelids. 

“But I know Eliana wouldn’t want you to give up just because she’s gone. You’ll see her again someday.” She swallows thickly, giving her hand another squeeze, smiling softly when she returns the gesture.

“But not today. Right?” Aster affirms her with a tired nod, and she helps get the scout to a crouch as Tomix stands back up. They share a long look as he helps her up, in turn, holding onto his arm longer than strictly necessary before she turns to survey the area.

“Shit,” Varric whistles lowly. “ Definitely one hell of a story there...” he murmurs, shaking his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The spirit’s name is pronounced “TEH-new-em”, for those interested.


	4. Interlude- Varric

It seemed they were back where they started.

No, that was unfair to Niamh. 

On one hand, the breach was still there, but it was stable and wasn’t spitting demons every two minutes. On the other, they still had an unconscious woman to carry back through the cold, and a few new additions Varric wasn’t sure what to think of yet.

Niamh’s old flame, Tomix? A bit strange, on  the broody side, and he  definitely wanted to know what had happened between them, but other than that, he was fine. The spirit, though...

The more either Niamh or Tomix explained it  to him, the more comparisons he drew to Blondie. And he  _definitely_ didn’t like that shit.

—————

Varric sighs heavily as they come into view of Haven’s gate. The Seeker walked up beside him and looked at him curiously. 

“Is something the matter, Varric?” She asked, head cocked slightly to the left.

“Hm? Oh, no. Not really.” He lied easily. Then immediately felt bad for some reason. “I’m just thinking about that... spirit, demon, whatever that thing of Threads’s is.” He looked down at his feet, trying and failing to suppress a grimace. 

“Brings back bad memories.” He said simply, not needing to elaborate. He glanced back up at Cassandra, and is taken aback by the look in her eyes. Sympathy.

“I see,” she says quietly. “Would you like to talk of nicer things, in the meantime?”

“Ah, I’m good, I think. Nearly at Haven, after all. But thanks, Seeker.” Cassandra nods, conceding his point.

“Well, for what it’s worth, Varric, if you want to talk about what... happened in Kirkwall, I’m here to listen.”

He grunts wordlessly to the Seeker in response, and they walk into Haven, the Herald’s body in tow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I like having shorter interludes between every few chapters/major plot points. A different perspective could keep things interesting, plus it gives me an opportunity to write Varric. <3 
> 
> Let me know what y’all think so far, it really brightens my day to see your comments/thoughts. ^_^


	5. Learning to Walk Again

_ She was falling headfirst through Ravenloss’s portal, swirling purple light surrounding her for an instant before her knees, elbows, and chin get up close and personal with the dirt. She groans and tries to sit up, rubbing her affronted chin with a scowl.  _

_ “Where in Heck am I now?” She grumbled. Internally, her heart clenched. This was “The Moment”, as some bards would  say. _

_“It’s good to see another human in this dark undercity,” Tomix’s voice reached her, and the sight of his boots greeted her as she glanced up._

_ “Even if it is in the dirt,” she chuckles at herself and pushes herself to stand and meet the one who’s spoken. _

_Her stomach sank as she sees it’s not his_ _old haircut, covering a young face and bright, golden eyes, but the fade he’d worn when she’d seen him in Pellow Village._

_ She chokes out a sob and angrily swipes at her eyes, and the scene fades as the spirit’s form blurs. Riadne, now, standing on the dock of the Village as they returned.  _

_ “Where’s Tomix-?”  _

_ She  _ screams _ , and the spirit ripples like a pond after a stone is dropped in it. _

_ Vaal stands before her, curiosity etched in his features. _

_ “ Why are you here ?” He asked, hoarse, slightly distorted voice still sending goosebumps down her arms. _

_ “I want to learn.” Her past self says, certainty, and weary, tired resolve setting her jaw and making her look him in the eye. Vaal’s answering, wicked smile is the last thing she sees before she wakes. _

She wakes up in a cabin, in a surprisingly comfortable bed. Not the Falconreach Inn, then.

Kicking the blanket off of her, she swings her feet off the bed, touching her ribs with a groan.

As her feet hit the floor, an elf walks in the room, carrying a crate. Glass clinks together loudly as the frightened girl drops it, falling to her knees.

“Your Worship!” She squeaks. “I-I-I didn’t know you’d awakened!” She can’t look her in the eyes as she staggers to her feet, not giving the crate a second glance as she starts to back out of the cabin. “I-I must go tell Seeker Cassandra!” She flinches as she catches the edge of the door with her elbow. “‘At once!’ She said!” She turns and flees fully, leaving Niamh on her own once again. “Your Worship...?” She asks out loud. 

She looks around the cabin for a moment, familiarizing herself with her surroundings before exiting the cabin.

Only to be stopped in her tracks by people lining both sides of the path, silently saluting her. 

Part of her was flattered, and part of her was  _ thoroughly _ creeped out. All the way to the Chantry, the procession stretched on silently, staring at her. She allowed herself to shudder once the door closed solidly behind her, out of sight of the civilians. 

“As the embodiment of neutrality, I believe it important that I, at the least, watch over this meeting deciding the fate of my ally.” Tenuem was saying calmly. 

“ Absolutely not ! I will not have a  _ demon _ in a private meeting discussing sensitive topics!” She already felt a weight settle on her shoulders as she heard the same voice from the forward camp ringing through the building. 

“With respect, Chancellor, I am not a demon-“

“Tenuem stays.” She says as she opens the door, cutting off the argument. “It is not negotiable.” She levels a glare at Chancellor Thorn-in-our-Sides that could’ve chilled an Ice Dragon as he opens his mouth to say more.

“Chain her,” he snaps, eyes narrowed. “I want her prepared for travel to the capital immediately.”

“Disregard that, and leave us,” Cassandra pipes in immediately, clearly used to dealing with the man.

“You tread a thin line,  _ Seeker _ .” He spits the title like a curse and turns back to the table.

She freely admitted that she zoned out of the ensuing conversation, which is why she jumped out of her skin when Cassandra slams a right-and-proper  tome on the war table, declaring the Inquisition re-opened. The priest storms out of the room after a few more terse words were exchanged, and Cassandra turns to her.

“Will you help us, Niamh?” She asked, brown eyes full of hope.

_ ‘What kind of question is that? _ _’_ she thinks.

“Of course.” She says immediately, shaking the warrior’s hand firmly. “I want to see order restored to the world. Starting with this Breach.”

Cassandra smiles warmly at her, turning to the three people on the other side of the table. 

“Allow me to introduce our advisors,” 

“You’ve met Leliana,” she nods to the woman dressed in a set of grey leather, purple hood drawn over her head.

“My position involves a degree of-“

“She is our spymaster,” Cassandra cuts her off with a small smirk. 

“...yes. Tactfully put, Cassandra.” She deadpans.

“And this is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador.” A woman clad in a gold, puffy-sleeved dress gives a small curtsy in greeting.

“A pleasure to meet you, Niamh,” the woman smiles. She had an accent she’d heard from a few of the inhabitants of Sho’Nuff, and the odd traveling merchant from the coasts.

“And this is Knight-Commander Cullen Rutherford,” the man straightened up and rests his hands on the pommel of his sword as she introduced him.

“Though I don’t go by that title much anymore,” the man admits.

“It’s a pleasure to meet all of you,” Niamh smiles with a small bow of her head.

“I believe that is all we needed you for, if you’d like to get some dinner from the Tavern.” Leliana says. “I believe Tomix is talking with Solas, not far from there, if you’d like to talk with him,” Niamh finds herself blushing at her words, and it only deepened as the trio of women share a smile. She excused herself from the room and quickly walked out of the Chantry. 

True to what the Nightingale had said, the two were, indeed, talking, just up a small hill from the building she assumed was the tavern, from the smell of food and sounds of music coming from it. 

However, her hunger won over her curiosity in the end, and she got a loaf of fresh bread to eat at her leisure and walked up to the elf and Weaver.

“Fascinating,” Solas was saying, “so they help you to- oh, Niamh! Good afternoon.” The elf smiles at her and Tomix turns. 

“We can continue this conversation later, Weaver,” Solas says with a small bow, excusing himself to go back to the cabin behind him.

“Is... is it that obvious...?” She muttered to herself.

“Come on, let’s walk around outside Haven. There’s a frozen lake just outside the gates.”

“That sounds nice. Wonder if I could skate on it?” She muses. “Certainly feels cold enough for it.” She shivers. 

“Right? It’s miserable. Never did understand why some people love snow so much back home...”

“Like, moglins I get. They’ve a holiday and everything.” She snorts. “Ganoloth swears it’s the best weather to hunt dragons in, but he’s half-cracked anyway, so...”

* * *

Their conversation tapers off slowly as they reach the lake, and they stand on the dock quietly for a few moments as they take the view in.

“So, how have you been...?” Tomix asks awkwardly.

“Busy. The Rose has been keeping everyone on edge for a while, now. It’s horrible. I hope Aegis is okay...” Her brow furrows. 

“Do you not know what happened to him?”

She closes her eyes, looking down. “No,” she admits, eyes burning. “He left not long after you...” she lets out a long sigh. “Said there wasn’t enough in common between us for me to be able to Weave effectively. So I went looking again.”

She doesn’t open her eyes as she finishes quietly, and Tomix reaches out and places a hand on her shoulder. Unfortunately, it only makes the tears building up spill over, streaking fiery trails down her cheeks in the setting sun.

“Hey,” he says softly as she chokes out a sob. He pulls her into a hug, letting her head rest on his shoulder as she begins to cry in earnest, years of tears she’d never truly been able to shed freely set loose. He slowly sits down on the dock, content to support her as long as she needed.

After several minutes, she pulls away, sniffling quietly, eyes red.

“Thank you.” She says softly, her voice thick. 

“It’s not a problem, Niamh.” He smiles sadly at her.  
They sit in silence for a while, watching the fading rays of the sun sink below the mountains. 


End file.
